


Twenty Four Roses

by Echo_Dot



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ana is a little shit, F/M, Gabe is a mastermind, Jack Needs a Hug, Jack is gay, Jack is oblivious, Jack morrison is an idiot, M/M, Perspective Switching, Reaper76 - Freeform, Rein is bad at secrets, Tags to be added, angst to floof, duh - Freeform, eventual angst, how the fuck do you tag, jack is an idiot, mature for language, tagging is hard, the whole gang - Freeform, they both love eachother, they're all here - Freeform, they're gay old men in love, valentines day, what do you want from me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-01-01 10:03:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echo_Dot/pseuds/Echo_Dot
Summary: When he asks Athena what day it is, he's completely taken aback when she says the 14th.He had forgotten about Valentine's day.As dread settles in his gut he wonders if he’d have time to do something small for Gabriel on his lunch break, and he checks his calendar to see if he could escape the base during the day. As he scans the countless meetings and debriefings lined up for him to attend, he realizes he’d be lucky to even eat lunch at all.TLDR: Jack is dumb and gay and Gabe is sly and Gay





	1. That's Not For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Honestly, I have no idea how many chapters this will end up being, I just know that it has a beginning and a definitive end with an NSFW epilogue that i haven’t written yet. A good portion of the story has been written, but some of it still needs to be revised and whatnot, but yeah, without further ado, Jack Morrison being a stupid idiot while Gabe plans everything. (I love these dorks).  
> Also yes, its April I know that I'm really late, sue me.

When he asks Athena what day it is, he's completely taken aback when she says the 14th. 

 

He had forgotten about Valentine's day. 

 

As dread settles in his gut he wonders if he’d have time to do something small for Gabriel on his lunch break, and he checks his calendar to see if he could escape the base during the day. As he scans the countless meetings and debriefings lined up for him to attend, he realizes he’d be lucky to even eat lunch at all. 

“Politics don’t rest for love.” He sighs to himself. Reaching for his coffee mug he scribbles his signature on a request for more medical funding. But as he raises the ceramic to his lips, he finds it empty and groans as he places it back down. The internal debate about whether or not to get more coffee is short lived as he stifles a yawn. Jack rises from his desk with a sigh, and grabs the empty mug, walking slowly to the kitchenette near the officer’s wing. 

He groans softly as he looks around, averting his gaze to the ground. The base looked as if a Hallmark movie had exploded everywhere; red, pink and white covering every available surface. If you could tape a paper heart someplace, it was there. He spotted more than one officer forgoing regulatory uniforms in favor of more holiday-themed outfits. Tinted cellophane and tinfoil overflowed garbage cans from discarded candy wrappers, and Jack feels a pang of sympathy for the janitors.

He narrowly misses a distracted officer who mutters an apology as they pass, returning to her phone with intense interest. She’s followed by a man from HR he vaguely recognizes, who shoots him a pitying smile, clearly observing his lack of holiday cheer. 

He knows he carries an air of loneliness about him, and he self consciously plasters an uneasy smile on his face. Rounding the corner as the corridor ends, he’s confronted by his reflection displayed fuzzily through the windows. His pace comes to an unsteady stop as he glances at the bags beneath his eyes and the unhealthy pallor of his skin. He runs a hand through his thinning hair and rubs his face as if he could restore some of the life to his complexion.

Aggressive insecurities had plagued his thoughts for years now. They’d become worse after he and Vincent had split.

He pauses and takes a deep breath that fortifies him about as much as a stack of ice cubes in the sun. Jack forces his feet to enter the kitchenette and he lights up with a half-hearted smile as he spots Ana who relaxes casually against a counter, holding a single red rose.

He prays she doesn’t see the slight slump in his shoulders as he breaches the threshold of the small box of a room. 

She raises her tea in a form of a greeting, eyes alive with a knowing glint. She takes a sip from her cup and sets it down onto the counter behind her, pushing herself into a more upright position. Ana walks up to greet him with a brief hug, carefully handling the flower to preserve its delicacy. 

“Jack!” She exclaims, switching the flower to her other hand as she pulls away, “Just the man I was looking for!”

His mind flicks back to his crammed schedule before she continues, secretly begging she wasn’t going to ask for a favor. 

“My favorite second in command!” He responds with equal cheeriness, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. He crosses the room in a few short strides and plants himself in front of the coffee maker, relieved to see that someone had just brewed a fresh pot. He pours himself a cup with room for cream, dropping in a spoonful of sugar before stirring it liberally.

“Well happy valentines day to you too Strike Commander Sir!” She croons, draping herself on his shoulder. He genuinely smiles at her antics, turning away from his light and sweet beverage.

“Oh?” He grins, feigning innocence, “Was that today? I couldn’t tell by the pink everything.” 

Her laugh is musical as she slaps his arm. 

“Very funny Jack.” 

His smile fades to an inquisitive stare as his gaze falls back on the rose.

“That from Sam?” He asks, reaching behind himself and sipping his coffee. The brew carries a nutty undertone of a Columbian blend that reminds him of the kind of coffee he knows Gabriel adores. He makes a mental note to check the bag to see if he should pick some up to have on hand. 

Ana’s previously nonchalant demeanor falters for just a split second, remaining invisible to the untrained eye. But, Jack would dub himself as an expert in Ana Amari microexpressions and moves to stumble through an apology, but she continues before he gets the chance. 

“Actually,” She pauses for dramatic effect, elbowing him in his side, “I was told to give this to you!” 

He’s instantly taken aback and fixes her with an even more skeptical stare, which apparently is the most humorous thing in the world to her. He places his mug down on the counter and crosses his arms, schooling his expression into one of boredom.

“You must be mistaken-” He moves to correct, seriously doubting her motives. 

“Oh, Jack!  أنت أعمى جدا” (You are very blind.) She trills, attempting in vain to regain her composure. She quickly gives up on stifling her laughter and forces the flower into his flustered hands. He knows he must be a thousand shades of red as he attempts to protest the rose, only noises of disapproval leaving his lips. Her laughter only grows in volume at his reaction and she turns to leave, grabbing her tea mug and all but fleeing down the hallway.

He dashes to the doorway and calls after her,

“Dammit, Ana!”

“اقبل حبه يا معتوه” (Accept his love dammit!) She responds, sending him to curse his inability to speak Arabic.

He returns to his coffee and stares at the offending gift, utterly dumbfounded at the exchange. Turning it over in his hands, he spots a small tag at the base of the bud. It’s barely a centimeter across and has the number one printed immaculately on both sides. 

“Who gave you the flower?” He whispers to himself, picking up his mug and walking down the hallway. “And what does it mean one?”

He stares at the immaculate rose on the way back, almost crashing into Angela who simply giggles at his antics, covering her mouth with the manila folders she carries in her hands.

He apologizes her to her distractedly, and she waves it off, 

“Don’t apologize, sir!” She trills, heels clacking quickly in the other direction. 

 

Jack Morrison would swear to god that he wasn’t a romantic. That he never dreamed of romantic picnics, or watched sappy romance movies, or cried at weddings. 

 

So Jack Morrison certainly does NOT get butterflies in his stomach as he considers the potentials of such a rose, at the implications of the gift, or its owner. He does not imagine a romantic evening, and he most certainly isn't distracted because of a stupid fucking flower.

 

Nope, not Jack Francis Morrison

 

When he opens his door, there’s a glass vase with a black rose in the center of his desk. 

 

He doesn’t move from the doorway, looking between the red rose in his hand and the black rose on his desk.

Well, this was certainly interesting.

Skepticism fueling his motions, he walks to his chair, thoroughly inspecting his desk and surrounding area looking for a hint of the perpetrator. He gives serious consideration to dusting for fingerprints or combing through the last hour of security footage.

You know, the normal stuff.

But the air of mystery appeals to him and sits down in his chair after he’s checked everything twice. The vase is reasonably large and has over two inches of water in it, and there’s a silver ribbon around the center that's tied into a perfect bow. 

He smiles softly and places the red rose beside the stunning black one. He looks beneath the bud base for another note and finds an identical paper square with an equally eloquent two on it.  

Perfectly planned apparently; whoever this person was, they were painfully aware of his schedule, and the thought unsettled him a bit. But before he had the chance to dwell on the thought, a quick two-tone chime from overhead reminds him that his 8 AM meeting was rapidly approaching. He lets his brain switch gears and turns on his holo desk, moving the roses to the leftmost side of the desk.

Jack pulls up the files he needs for the meeting and groans as he sees Torbjorn’s name on top of the request. He skims through the first paragraph of the document and immediately reaches a decision.

No, he would not let an 8-year old, no matter how smart, work in the Overwatch engineering department. He could just see the headlines now,

_ “‘Overwatch Lead Engineer, Torbjorn Lindholm kills daughter in freak turret accident.’ _

_ ‘Jack Morrison allows unsafe working conditions, and a young girl pays the price.’” _

Nope. Not happening.

 

Just as he finished preparing his opening statement as to why Lindholm couldn’t bring his daughter into work, his door opened and he had to pan his eyes downward to see his visitor.

The engineer walked next to his desk and planted himself heavily in the spare chair. He smelled like smoke and engine oil, and his hair was slicked back with what Jack could only guess was sweat and grease. The Swede removed his safety glasses and placed them atop his head. 

“Ah! Come in Torbjorn, make yourself at home!” He joked, leaning closer to the sweet smelling aroma of the flowers. 

“Thanks, Jack.” He responded, exhaustion laden in his voice. Jack looked to his desk to begin his rejection of Torbjorn’s request. He takes a deep breath and looks up from his files, words immediately stolen from his mouth as he comes face-to-face with a bright blue flower. 

“I was,” Torbjorn starts, letting out a light cough, “I was told,  _ ah din dumma pojkvän _ (by your stupid boyfriend) to give this to you.” 

Jack blinked quickly as he reached for the flower that was dyed nearly the same color as his duster. It was undoubtedly beautiful and stood a stark contrast to its red and black counterparts. He checked the base for a number and saw that it said 3, smiling softly to himself as he placed it in the vase.

“Thanks,” Jack said, flashing a half-assed smirk, “I think.”

Torbjorn picked up on his uncertainty and his eyebrows raised to his greasy hairline.

“You don’t know who that’s from?”

Jack stared at the engineer like he had grown a second head. 

Unsurprisingly, the engineer let out a large guffaw, clutching his stomach and leaning all the way back in the chair.

“Ni två är mer dumma än min tvååriga dotter!” (You two are more stupid than my two-year-old daughter!) Torbjorn cried out, moving to wipe a tear away from his eye.

Jack rolled his eyes and turned his chair back to the center of his desk. 

“Why is it that I feel like an ass for only speaking English around here?”

Torbjorn only smiled and patted him on the shoulder, shaking his head as he turned to walk away.

“You’ll be alright Jack, du två kommer alltid att räkna ut det (you two will always figure it out).” 

Jack only sighed in confusion as he watched his friend leave, reaching in his desk for his reading glasses so he could continue on his busy day. As the door closed his hand brushed up against something soft in the draw, and he turned his gaze to look. His hand grasped a soft red rose, whose petals were just barely budding. It was nearly the same color as the one he had received from Ana. 

At its base was another tag reading the number 5, apparently, he had found this one early.

Setting it beside its counterparts, he smiled and stared at them for a minute, thoughts racing through in his mind.

Whoever gave them to him clearly had an eye for detail, each flower immaculate and unbroken. Although it could be anyone on base, he only ever had one person in mind. 

 

Gabriel.

 

Secretly, he hoped the flowers were from him, that this could be the start to a more consistent relationship. But, he’d be happy even if this was just a pity gesture, he couldn’t blame Gabe for not wanting to start something serious, especially with them, with their lives, their schedules. The line of work they picked didn’t leave room for romance, and Gabriel was tied tight on time with his son as it was. If Jack was the last thing on his mind, he understood.

Really looking at the blossoms one last time, he turned to work, reaching for the headphones he kept in his pocket. Shuffling the playlist he used to focus, he let himself drown in productivity, attempting to tackle as much of his workload as he could before his next meeting. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before he knew it, his 10-minute warning alarm had gone off, breaking his thoughtful stupor. Removing his headphones, he stretches languidly and stands up from his desk. Grabbing his holopad, he checks where his next appointment is; 

a checkup with Angela. 

Of course.

He groans and forgoes getting another cup of coffee, hoping to prevent that particular lecture in its entirety. Before he walks away from his chair, he reaches down and grabs his headphones again, leaving his eyepiece beside the vase.

Scrolling absently through his playlists, his finger lands on one largely comprised of romance songs. By coincidence of course. 

He walked through the halls with a visible spring in his step, letting the upbeat pace of the music carry him, the melodies taking over his mind. It was a brief trip to Angela’s and he removed an earbud as he knocked on the door, allowing it to dangle carelessly on the wire. 

The steel door slid open and he stepped inside, allowing an easy smile to spread on his face as he heard the sound of her rolling stool turn around. Her face lights up as she sees him, taking in his easy going mood.

“Ah! Jack! Taking my recommendation I see!” The doctor greeted with a nod towards his headphones. 

“Music is scientifically proven to be relaxing, and in my opinion, there are few people who need that more than you and your, ah...” She smiles before she continues as if having a secret conversation with herself. He allows himself a quizzical stare which she laughs off.

“It is no matter, come, sit down,” Angela turns efficiently to her desktop, no doubt pulling up his expansive medical file. Jack crosses the room to the table and sets his holopad on the small desk beside the bedside. As he’s easing off his duster, he sees her giggle while she clearly pretends to busy herself with something in her desk. He strains his neck to try and see over her shoulder and spots a box of chocolates in her draw. 

“Those from Genji?” He asks, boyish grin on his face. The relationship between her and the ninja crossed the border between friends and acceptable policy; but with his own situation, he wasn’t one to talk. 

The Swiss doctor turned as red a tomato before quickly regaining her composure,

“That’s none of your business Jack.”

She reaches for a white band and clasps it around his arm. The device warms slightly before sending blood pressure and heart rate data to the datapad in her hand.

“45/85 Jack, your readings aren’t getting better.” She sighs, as she studies the results from the band with a disappointed face. He shrugs at her observation which apparently, is the wrong answer. 

“Jack, the normal heart rate for someone of your fitness level and, well, history is 35, you’re nearly 10 over! Don’t even get me started on your blood pressure! You  _ have _ to relax Jack,”

He smiles sadly and lets out a half-hearted chuckle,

“Tell that to the UN.” 

She huffs and blows a stray strand of hair out of her face. 

“Find a way to blow of steam Jack, doctors orders.”

She sends a command to the device and he feels a small prick in his arm as a needle emerges from the band. The needle is gone as quickly as it came and she detaches the band from his arm. She turns around to place the device in what he can only assume is its charging port. 

“Other than a case of  _ chronische Dummheit _ (Chronic stupidity) and stress, you’re in perfect health.” She teases, rummaging in her draws again. The doctor pulls something out he doesn't see and places it in her lab coat, effectively hiding it from his prying eyes. Jack shrugs his sleeve back down his arm and replaces his duster upon his shoulders, rolling up his earbuds and placing them in his breast pocket. 

He stands to leave, picking up his datapad from the table.

“Happy Valentines day Angie.” He says before turning for the door. She hums in response and he's halfway through the door when she calls out to him.

“Jack!” Her mouth is quickly covered by her hand as he turns around. “You forgot something!” 

On the table where various medical instruments were scattered just moments before sits another black rose. There’s a small tag on the underside exactly like all of the other ones.

He feels his cheeks turn red as he crosses back through the room and picks up the rose.

“Ah, thank you Angela.” He mutters, attempting to bury his face in his chest. He turns and leaves before she can get another word in, footsteps echoing quickly down the hallway. 

The doctor smiles to herself as she hears the door close.

“It’s amazing how silly he can manage to be sometimes.” She sighs, moving to process the blood she drew. 

“It’s as if him and the commander have no concept of how limited life is.” A robotic voice comes from over her shoulder. She jumps in her seat but relaxes as soon as the ninja sets a hand on her shoulder.

“Ah! Genji,” She smiles, as she turns her chair.

“You would think with all of the hardship they have witnessed that they would take every moment they could.” He mulls, eyes focused somewhere in the room.

“I agree.”

“I am simply glad that Commander Reyes has requested our assistance with this,” He rolls his hand in the air as he searched for the right word. “Valentines day mission, Commander Morrison could use some good news.”

The doctor smiles as she leans into his cool touch, reaching for his hand that rested on her shoulder. 

“It’s about time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for making it this far!!!! <3 <3  
> Special thanks to Maniaco for being the best beta ever!!!! You can find them here (http://paladin-of-black.tumblr.com/) and here,(https://www.instagram.com/bara_b0i/)  
> Want to scream at me about R76, please feel free to on my Twitter here, https://twitter.com/echodot01  
> As always, I love comments and they are the lifeblood of my existence, pls, <3  
> Once again, Thank youuuuuu.


	2. Expect the Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for staying with me! Hope you like angst!

When Jack returns to his office, he immediately knows he wasn't the last person within these walls. His blue and red striped mug has been moved off of his desk, and the vase of flowers sits squarely in the center. He handles the black rose with care, sliding it into the vase as he maneuvers around his desk.

His chair is tucked squarely away, and he turns to eye his shelves to see where the Valentines-day-perpetrator stashed his favorite mug. Stepping closer, he thoroughly checks his shelves for any sign of a disturbance and finds nothing, the layers of dust perfectly untouched.

He cocks his eyebrow in confusion, looking around the small box he called an office for a hint of his favorite mug. He sees nothing and pulls out his chair to return to work, planning on confronting the gift giver about his mug once he discovers their identity. His eye catches a flash of blue just before he sits down and thanks the lord for his advanced eyesight. He picks up the mug and grins when spots a red flower sitting inside the coffee-ringed inside. He checks his office for anyone else before he brings the gentle petals up to his nose and inhales. The sweet smell fills his nostrils and clouds his brain deliriously.

 _Maybe there’s something to this whole flower thing._ He thinks as he places it in the vase.

Sighing as his gaze returns to his never-ending to-do list on the holoscreen beside him, his phone vibrates vehemently in his pocket, snapping his attention to the device. He pulls it out in a swift motion, checking the caller ID, unprepared for the face that appears on the screen.

_Jesse McCree?_

He swipes to accept the call, placing the device on the table in front of him.

“Commander Morrison speaking” He greets, skepticism evident in his tone.

“Heya Commander, uhh” The call quality is fuzzy and in the background, Jack can hear the telltale noises of gunfire and distant screaming.

“Jesse? Where the hell are you?” Jack asks with growing concern, looking up the Blackwatch mission log. He scrolls through the list and sees nothing that should involve Jesse’s team, that should involve _Gabriel’s_ team.

“Yeah-ah, about that, boss and I, we were uh, scopin’ out that new restaurant place. You know, the one that looks to good to be true? Hold on-” Jesse’s voice is immediately overtaken by the sound of his gaudy but accurate six-shooter, clearly returning fire. Jesse mutters something unintelligible over the line and the thump of a body can be heard falling to the ground. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, turns out, that the place really _is_ too good to be true, and is run by the local mafia! Absolutely crazy right!?” Jesse describes, voice filled with adrenaline.

Jack presses his fingers across the bridge of his nose,

“Why are you on the phone with me in the middle of a firefight?” Jack asks, looking to the vase as a source of inspiration.

“Oh, uh boss was hopin’ you and a few other Overwatch blues could mosey on over and get some positive press on this whole shindig. You know, for the kids.”

“Unbelievable,” Jack groans, sending out a red alert to Angela and Reinhardt, instructing him to meet him in the hangar in five minutes. Placing his phone in his breast pocket, he crosses his office in a few short strides to his personal gun locker, opening the door and reaching for his pulse rifle. When he grabs it, something falls to the floor and he stares at the offending item incredulously.

It’s another blue rose, whose tag reads the number 7. He looks at his schedule inquisitively, knowing he had absolutely no plans to open this locker today, let alone this early in the morning. But, without time to ponder how in the _world_ this person would know McCree would decide to run a press mission on Valentine's day, he places the flower in the vase and shoves some biotic emitters in his pockets.

He barks out a hasty goodbye to McCree and secures his phone, throwing his earbuds on his desk and grabbing his eyepiece. He leaves his office in a hurry, shouting to Athena to shut the door behind him. He’s at the hangar exactly five minutes from his distress signal, and he’s pleased to see Reinhardt and Angela there just as punctually.

Angela’s gear is in perfect condition as always, and somehow the crusader had managed to be in full armor in less than five minutes, which was odd. Jack didn’t linger on the thought, pushing past his friends and hopping on the transport.

“Let's get moving,” Jack instructs in lieu of a greeting, setting himself down next to the pilot in the cockpit.

“Mein Gott, ist er wirklich so leicht zu täuschen? (My god, is he really that easily; fooled?)” Angela whispers as Reinhardt steps past her onto the transport, catching the large German laughing at her remark.

“Jack hatte immer einen toten Winkel für Gabriel (Jack has always had a blinds spot for Gabriel)” The old soldier chuckles in reply, ducking under the ceiling of the entryway. Angela grins and follows, selecting a seat next to the first aid kits.

Reinhardt watches as Jack pokes furiously at his phone, clearly sending off a message to whoever he was previously meeting with. Stifling a chuckle, he examines his hammer, rubbing a smudged spot clean with the back of his glove. He waits until he’s sure the commander isn’t looking to check on the flower in his breastplate, preparing to place it in Jack’s pocket after the fight.

Gabriel’s instructions were specific, place the flower in Jack’s pocket before they got off the transport on the way back to base. Reinhardt was never one to stray from a challenge and he steeled his resolve, feeling the small hover copter extend its landing gear.

When the final thuds of touchdown reverberated through the cabin, the crusader rose lazily from his seat, letting out a languid yawn. Angela, just as unamused at the “urgent mission” walked to his side and leaned on his arm, checking her nails for imperfections.

The commander vaulted down from the cockpit, a sort of excitement fueling his steps. Rein watched with a grin as the younger man gained excitement from the prospect of returning to the field, the ever-expansive days in the office clearly getting to him.

“Good to see you in such a good mood commander!” The German bellowed, reaching up to grasp a handle as the bay door opened with a hiss. Jack’s complexion reddened slightly at the remark, and the German let out a bellowing laugh as he stepped onto the concrete towards the restaurant. The two are quick to follow, Angela’s mechanical wings snapping to life as she hovers behind him.

Jack is the first to breach the door, rolling behind a counter where the young Blackwatch cowboy sits.

“Oh hey, Commander” Jesse croons nonchalantly, rising from behind the granite and wood to blindly fire a few shots. Jack shoots Jessee a look that can only be described as one that a mother gives a whining child. Jesse chuckles as he reloads, shaking his head to himself. Jack hefts himself up and takes aim at an unsuspecting woman who’s vehemently firing at Lieutenant Windhelm’s shield. A bullet from his rifle rips through her shoulder and another settles itself in her stomach. She drops to the ground with a choked out groan, clutching the sight of impact before losing consciousness. Jack dives back down before another angry gang member could lock their sights on the commander of Overwatch.

“Why was Blackwatch even here Jesse?” Jack questions as he drops his half-empty clip on the ground, reaching for a new one inside his coat pocket. But before the cowboy could answer the question, Jack continued, “There was nothing on the mission logs, and Commander Reyes didn’t run anything past me, and this is a rather odd choice for a PR stunt,”

Jack turned to Jesse and watched the young man’s jaw open and close pathetically, words clearly failing the cowboy. An expression of suspicion crosses his face and an accusation forms on his lips, ready to question the mission’s nature. But just before he could grill the young man further, a familiar body presses against his side, and his reaction is instant. A dopey smile crosses Jack’s features as the smell of gunpowder and sweat fill his nostrils. The man next to him is undeniably Gabriel, and Jack turns to question the commander rather than his subordinate.

“Hey Gabe, what’s Blackwatch doing here anyway?” Jack pans his head to watch Gabe who’s constantly checking over his exposed shoulder. The man doesn’t react, and Jack presses further, the details of the mission making less and less sense the more he thinks about the logistics. “I didn’t see anything on the mission logs.”

Gabe shrugs and extends his left arm, pulling the trigger distractedly as a stray mafia member makes their way around the counter. Jack fixes him with a stern stare and swears he sees Gabriel’s cheeks dust with color. A choked sigh escape the man’s lips as he flips his shotguns nonchalantly.  

“Jessee and I wanted lunch, and we stopped here, but then the manager put a knife to my throat, and I connected the dots based on prior surveillance and Intel.”

Jack nodded with understanding, the memory of a few failed assassination attempts on his own life flashing through his mind.

“Makes sense.” Jack shrugs, turning around to return fire. Once he had emptied his clip, he landed heavily and leaned a bit further to his left than he needed, clearly invading Gabriel’s personal space. Much to Jack’s pleasure, the other man didn’t draw away despite the proximity being completely unnecessary.

“Too bad about this place though,” Jack sighed, wincing as a chandelier crashed to the floor, glass shards launching like shrapnel.  “It looked really nice.”

Gabe let out a snort as he removed a smoke grenade from his belt and tossed it over his head, a cocky grin plastered on his face. Jack tried not to watch as a drop of sweat drew its way down Gabriel's neck. Tried not to notice the swell of his arms as he shot off his shotguns, taking the recoil from the powerful weapons like it was nothing. Tried not to breathe deeply from his nose and just outwardly stare, tried, but failed.

Mcree cleared his throat and Jack violently shifted his gaze straight ahead, staring at the bullet hole-riddled wall. It was now that he wasn’t busy ogling Gabriel, that he noticed the returning fire had stopped and that the dust and blood of the fight had begun to settle. Jack’s cheeks turned red as he rises up, reaching for a set of handcuffs he kept on his belt.

The telltale flash of a camera can be seen behind him as he crosses the room to apprehend those who were still alive. Angela tends to the wounded, wrapping bandages and applying her caduceus staff whenever possible. Reinhardt covers the bodies, laying sheets taken from Angela’s kit over the fallen mafia members.

The sound of dozens of whispers reach his ears and he turns his focus to the crowd of reporters that formed at the door, held back by a tall female Blackwatch agent covered in blood. Jack winces at the sight and takes over, changing direction to the crowd.

The woman sighs with relief at his approach, turning to leave as soon as Jack walked through the door. His name rippled through the group and small microphones were immediately turned in his direction. Taking a moment's pause to think about his statement, he took a deep breath and began,

“Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the inconvenience but I have no details on this event at this time. What I know for sure is the scene is safe and handled and that local authorities are on the way. An official statement will be released later, but for now please return home and enjoy valentine's day with your families.”

With that he turned and walked back inside, allowing the now-approaching police force to corral the horde of reporters. He exhaled with visible relief as he stepped inside, surveying the scene in front of him, watching as his and Gabriel’s agents worked diligently to take care of the aftermath.

A pointed clearing of the throat from behind him caught his attention and he whirled around to see Jesse leaning casually on a wall, lit cigar between his teeth.

“Interesting to watch you fight commander.” Jesse drawled, eyes predatory from beneath the wide brim of his hat. Jack became uneasy and fiddled with the hem of his coat as the cowboy pushed himself off of the wall.

“One minute, you’re landing shot after shot,” Jesse has stepped closer now, and the faint jingle of his spurs come to a solid halt when he’s barely a foot away from Jack. “Then all of a sudden, Gabriel shows up, and it’s like you forgot how a gun works.”

Jack feels his stomach drop at the abrupt observation, not realizing the fall of his performance during the battle. He feels his cheeks redden and he ducks his head away to the side, pulling his phone out and pretending to busy himself with something.

Jack knows the act won’t fool Jesse, but it would be enough to fool anyone else, and he has a feeling the cowboy already knows his secret anyway.

“Commander Reyes appeared to have the situation handled and my intervention at that point seemed unnecessary.” Jack lied smoothly, playing the perfect diplomat he was trained to be. He hears Jesse let out a grunt of disbelief before the cowboy’s spurs clicked behind him.

“A word of advice commander?” Jesse whispered in his ear, laying a hand on his blue-draped shoulder. “You ain’t so out his league.”

Jack nearly got whiplash from how fast he turned around, the unsolicited comment a 180-degree turn from where the cowboy was leading earlier. But before he can ask Jesse what on earth possessed him to say something so, _random_ , the cowboy was gone. He gapes wordlessly at where McCree was just moments earlier, his cheeks surely turning bright red.

Jack shoves his phone back in his pocket only for his hand to brush up against something that wasn’t previously in his pocket. His stomach drops as he worried if he crushed the flower he knows he's hovering awkwardly over at this moment. He swallows and replaces the flower with his phone, holding the blossom in his left hand. It’s another black one and its petals are slightly damaged and he grimaces internally, unhappy that the damage was likely his fault.

Jack glances at the tag on the base of the bud, curious to see if this flower was in order with the one that was in his gun locker. Much to his surprise, the tag read 8 and he shook his head, moving to give final orders to his team and return to work.

Reinhardt was amicably telling jokes with Angela when he found him, armour covered in dust and dbree from the crashed chandelier.

“I’ve called in cleanup, let's get you all back to base” Jack called, turning on his heel and crashing into something, no _someone_ , who had appeared behind him. A deep chuckling followed and it took every reserve of self control that Jack had not to just throw himself at Gabriel.

“That literally never gets old” The man chuckles as Jack pulls away, straightening his blazer and subtly checking on the rose in his hand. The gesture doesn’t escape the Blackwatch commander who grasps his wrist quickly, bringing the pitch black blossom up to their faces. Gabriel’s eyes are wide with awe and curiosity as he eyes the abused yet beautiful black flower.

“Where the hell did you get this Jack?” Gabe asks, wonder in his voice.

Jack feels his stomach fall to his feet, the confusion clear on the other man’s face was unmistakable. The realization hits him like a knife to the chest,

 

_The flowers weren’t from him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Ryxl who Betaed this chapter for me!! Luv u! ( https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryxl )  
> Thank you to all who commented, it honestly means the world to me and I hope this one didn't break your heart too much! But if it did, feel free to yell at me on twitter! https://twitter.com/echodot01  
> Love yall and see you in the next chapter!!! <3  
> (also Jayden if you're reading this, you're still a mol)


	3. Overthinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn’t love a bit of the thoughts of one (1) Gabriel Reyes as he accidentally breaks Jack’s heart 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one! I was on a break from school and for some reason its almost impossible for me to write when I don't need a distraction from life. But because of the dealy, I made this chapter super long! Yay!

Gabriel knows that the instant the words are out of his mouth that he made a mistake. For fifteen years he’d been an expert in Jack Morrison microexpressions, and today was no different. 

He can see it in his eyes that Jack’s shocked and hurt. He knows Jack is realizing that the flowers couldn’t possibly be from him because he’s never seen them before. Gabriel just knows that in that beautifully brilliant brain of his, he’s connecting dots that really shouldn’t be connected and watches helplessly as Jack’s heart stops beating for just a second; that insufferable pain clear in his eyes. 

Gabriel considers abandoning it all right there, just pulling out the golden rose he was hiding in his hoodie pocket and fucking proposing to Jack in the middle of a smokey restaurant, media and consequences be damned. But, he knows that’d only cause more problems than it would solve. There were reporters making their way in the room, and dozens of Overwatch and Blackwatch agents watching their exchange. 

Gabriel knows he has to continue with the plan, despite how much it may hurt Jack now. So, with a heavy heart, he continues to lie through his teeth, examining the black flower that  _ he’d _ special ordered from the most prestigious florist in Switzerland.

Gabriel reaches for a congratulatory hug but he’s too late, Jack offering some bullshit excuse and fleeing, feet moving swiftly out of the settling battlefield. 

Gabe knows Jack’s excuse is a lie, and for a minute, the guilt pushes all of the air out of his lungs, as he stares at the Strike-Commander shaped hole in front of him. When he finally catches his breath, he barks orders to his subordinates to finish clean-up and contact him when they’re done. 

The Blackwatch commander had a plan to finish, and he’d be damned if the final rose in his pocket wouldn’t arrive on schedule. 

 

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

 

Jack shakes out of his shell shocked stupor for long enough to formulate a half-assed reply before turning sharply on his heel and all but sprinting back to the ship, brushing off the calls of reporters as he passed. When he approached the dropship, he slowed his pace, walking up the ramp with his shoulders square and set, painting the perfect picture of composure.

He greeted the pilot with a simple smile and she saluted, rising from her seat. He dismissed her with a wave from his hand and excused himself to use the restroom, ducking into the small cubby hole that counted as an excuse for a bathroom. 

The second the door was locked, he sank to the floor, leaving the damaged blossom on the small counter of the sink. 

 

_ The flowers weren’t from Gabriel. _

 

He knew deep down that they wouldn’t be from him. That a man like Gabe, a perfect godsend from the fucking heavens above could never love him; Jack Morrison, an overblown soldier from Indiana who had never even tried an In-and-Out burger until the legend in question dragged Jack himself.

Jack Morrison, a man going grey in his 30’s from a job he could never leave. A man who slept with a gun between his mattresses for fear of his life. A man who had crushed on his best friend for so long he forgot what requited love was like. 

 

The stifled sob that escapes his lips is undignified and weak, but he couldn’t care less.

 

_ The flowers weren’t from Gabriel.  _

 

Tears fall pathetically down his cheeks, leaving dark blue stains on his pants and chestplate as they fall into his lap. He curls tighter in on himself, feeling his heart break piece by piece. 

 

Jack loses track of time as he cries silently to himself, only pulling his head up from his lap when a gentle rap at the door catches his attention. He stares blearily at the source of the sound, not daring to breathe when the knocking comes again. 

“Commander? Are you alright?” A booming voice echoes.

It’s Reinhardt and Jack lets out the shaky breath he had been holding. Forcing himself to inhale deeply through his nose he furiously wipes at his eyes and nose with his gloves. Jack stands up and braces himself on the counter, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, and his cheeks are pink and damp. Jack scrubs furiously at his face, hoping to wipe the heartbreak off of the outside and bury it deep where it couldn’t be seen. Jack clears his throat before responding, secretly pleading with his body not to let his voice crack.

“All good here Rein, coming out now” He calls, unlocking the door and pushing it to the side. He straightens his shoulders as he walks through the door, plastering a painful smile on his face.

“Ready for takeoff?” Jack asks, straightening his lapels and repositioning his pins. Reinhardt shakes his head and Jack barely has time to look at him with an inquisitive stare before the German reaches past him to grab the flower he left on the counter.

Jack flushes with embarrassment and reaches for it, only for the blossom to be held out of his reach.

“Jack.” His elder whispers reaching out with his free hand to crush Morrison into his armor. “I have known you for too long to be fooled by a fake smile and lies.” 

Jack grimaces into the warm metal chestplate that hums with energy.

“Tell me what is wrong old friend.”

Jack remains silent, hoping that Reinhardt would simply leave him alone, but knows that no such thing would occur. 

“It’s nothing” He tries anyway, knowing the lie wouldn’t fool the crusader.

“Nonsense,” Reinhardt says, pushing Jack upright and holding him square with a large gauntleted hand. Jack feels brave enough to look the larger man in the eye, almost flinching away from the sincerity and trust that he found there. “If you don’t wish to tell me what ails your heart,” He accentuated with a blue-clad finger pointed at Jack’s chest. “I understand, but trust me when I say reality isn’t always what it seems.”

Jack watches as Reinhardt hands him the black flower, and he tries to hide his displeasure as he spots a brand new blue flower beside it.

“Trust me, friend, please, do not rush to conclusions you cannot prove,” The man looks away wistifully, as if speaking from experience. “It will only get you hurt.” 

Jack grabs the flowers ruefully, holding them further away from his body than necessary. The ship shifts beneath them, and Jack takes it as his cue to move, brushing past the crusader to return to the cockpit. Just as he’s about to duck under the low entryway, he pauses, turning back around to ask Reinhardt the question that had been bugging him all day.

“Rein?” The German lifts his eyebrow in response, clear blue eye signaling for him to continue. “Who gave you the flower?” 

The man in question laughs, placing a hand over his broad stomach. 

“A crusader never fails an accepted quest, even at the behest of a trusted and valued comrade! Besonders wenn dieser Mann gefährlicher ist als Sie selbst! (Especially if that man is more dangerous than you!)” 

Laughter trails him as he walks to the main seating area, echoing around the cockpit. 

This would be a very long flight back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Returning to his office was almost a punishment as he keyed in his code to the door, putting away his beloved pulse rifle in the gun locker. 

He placed the newfound roses in the slowly filling vase, counting a total of 9 black, red and blue roses. 

Just as he reached to remove the eyepiece from his head, his monitor dinged with an urgent notification, the ugly red letters of the name Petras on the screen. Jack’s stomach did a frontflip as the phone icon shook with unbridled fear, no doubt quaking from the idea of hearing that awful man’s voice.

 

The director was everything Jack hated, overconfident, self-centered, and conceited. Jack could deal with an asshole though, and he did for a while; nodding his head when he was told in meetings, smiling at diplomats Petras labeled as important, and passing down orders from above. 

 

As time wore on, Petras became suspicious, not just of Overwatch, but of Blackwatch, specifically of Gabriel. Petras had called for the commander’s removal more than once, citing one incident or another. Jack refused every time, pledging his allegiance to the Blackwatch commander, over and over again. 

Jack knew Petras hated him and Gabriel now, hated Jack for defending him so blindly, and he showed his disapproval passively, sending more paperwork and scheduling more meetings than ever necessary. Jack shouldered the burden despite how it weighed on him, because without Blackwatch, Overwatch couldn’t stand, so the extra meetings were nothing to giving up what they almost died for, and who he loved.

 

_ Even though it was unrequited.  _ His brain supplied uselessly as he sank lifelessly into his chair, holding his head in the hands as the phone rang over and over again. 

Taking a deep breath, he pressed accept, waiting for the director’s grating bark.

“Nice of you to finally answer my call commander.” 

Jack nearly cried with exasperation, already over the idea of another round of paperwork. 

“I apologize sir,” He lied fluidly, opening his calendar application and seeing if he accidentally skipped a scheduled meeting. “I just returned from a scuffle in the local area and was only able to return to my desk now.” 

He could hear the director’s non-verbal disapproval through the phone, the sound of an exasperated sigh filtering its way over the line. 

“That’s why I’m calling Commander,” Petras explained, clearly rolling his eyes on the other side. “That wasn’t an approved Blackwatch mission.” 

A flash of anger ran through Jack, the sheer audacity of such a statement running through his mind. Was it an approved mission? No! Was it a successful mission with no civilian casualties and minimal damage? Yes! Did Petras know that they tried to  _ kill  _ Gabriel? No! Of course not!

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jack responded through gritted teeth, grateful Petras was old fashioned and stuck to audio-only calls.

“Again, I apologize sir, the mission was a surprise to me as well,” He began, rising from his desk to pace frustratedly in front of his desk. “Agent McCree contacted me requesting official Overwatch presence after an assassination attempt on Commander Reyes’s life by the mafia was thwarted. I decided in order to maintain Blackwatch’s cover, sending a small strike team including myself would be in everyone’s best interest.” 

He paused in his pacings as he awaited the director’s surely disapproving reply.

“I see the logistics in your move Morrison, and I applaud you for covering for Reyes, once again despite his constant desire to get himself into trouble.” Jack waited for the but, tempted to run out of his office and never return. 

“But your choice to depart from the location without explanation to the media was an unfortunate decision, and I’ve scheduled a press meeting for your explanation in twenty minutes.” 

A tense moment passed as Jack waited for the Director to continue.

“Remember Commander, you’re not to talk about any Blackwatch agent’s presences except for Commander Reyes, as always,” Petras explained, using a tone that one would take when explaining chemistry to a four-year-old. 

“Yes sir,” Jack responded, ending the call without fanfare. As soon as he was sure the call was fully disconnected, Jack flipped off his desk in frustration, muttering swears that’d make his mother blush. 

“Fuckin’ Petras” Jack finished, moving to draft his press address.

 

Less than ten minutes later, a quick knock echoed on his door, and he rose to answer it, tucking his pad into his pocket. 

The familiar mug on the other side of the door brought warring sensations to his chest, as the urge to kiss and punch that face battled for his attention. Jack compromised with a simple nod of his head as he retreated back to his desk.

“Well hello to you too.” The California accented baritone joked, settling next to Jack on the desk. Jack grunted in lieu of reply, focused on crafting a proper statement. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Gabriel grabbed the vase from the back of his desk and examined the blossoms inside. 

It hurt Jack to watch, knowing that Gabriel wasn’t the original owner of flowers, knowing they were from someone else. 

“Someone's got an eye for botany,” The man beside him commented, placing the glass back in its prior position.

Jack gritted his teeth, struggling to find a word to end a sentence about a safe perimeter. 

“I like the black ones,” He grins, plucking one of the black roses from the vase. “They’re  _ almost _ as edgy as me.” 

Jack nearly throws his tablet across the room as tears prick the back of his eyes. Checking his watch, he sees he only has a few minutes to reach the briefing room across the base. Jack rips the flower from Gabriel’s hands and tosses it back in the vase. He turns sharply to leave, but Gabriel catches his shoulder, setting the Overwatch’s commander’s body on fire.

“Hey,” Gabriel called softly, brown eyes full of an aggressive sincerity that crumbles the already falling pieces of Jack’s resolve. “What’s going on?” 

 

Jack catches his gaze, really looks at him and sees the palpable concern and kindness in his eyes, and shame pushes him to look away, feeling undeserving of such affection. But he finds himself transfixed, unable to look away.

As he stares at Gabriel the world around him fades to the background, the din from the bustling office quickly receding to the sound of his own pulse in his ears. Jack knows he needs to leave, absolutely  _ has _ to go, but finds himself helplessly stuck in this position, staring into Gabriel’s whiskey-colored windows to the soul. 

Jack wants to grab him, kiss him, and lock the door and never come out. He wants to admit everything he’s ever felt as Gabriel pulls him into a painfully platonic embrace. 

But, Jack knows he can't, that he can’t just lift his hand to Gabriel’s jaw and caress the base of his chin and see if his lips were just as full as they look. That Gabriel isn’t his to hold or keep, or to explore, that he’ll never know what it’s like to wake up in that wonderfully safe embrace, because while he may love Gabriel;

 

Gabriel didn’t love him.

Instead, Jack breathes in deeply, letting the smell of gunsmoke and heady cologne a scent so fully Gabriel that it hurts, fill his nostrils as he pushes away.

When he rights himself from the embrace, he rolls his shoulders ready to face whatever Petras tried to throw at him. But, as he turned to move, he found himself stuck in the Blackwatch Commanders’ scrutinous stare once again. Gabriel was studying him closely, raking his eyes over Jack’s form, his studious gaze pausing sharply on Jack’s medals. 

Before Jack could say anything, Gabriel reached out to adjust one of the pins that had twisted out of position. As the other man laid his hand on Jack’s chest, his breath caught dangerously in his throat, and Jack silently begged Gabriel didn’t notice. 

Once the pin was righted, Gabriel didn’t remove his hands, lingering on the blue lapels of his duster.

“Petras called,” Jack said, gaze slipping to the soft curve of Gabriel’s lips. Jack tried to look away, tried to bring his eyes back up to the proper position, but found himself unable to; staring transfixed as his tongue darted out from between his teeth as he wet his lips reflexively.

“Really?” Gabriel replied distractedly, his previously flat palm moving to grip Jack’s duster firmly. The air between them was tense with something Jack couldn’t put his finger on, filling him with an instinct that had him broaching Gabriel’s space, leaning into the Blackwatch commanders’ gentle touch. 

“He’s having me make a press address about that skirmish earlier,” Jack whispered, afraid of breaking whatever spell that had been cast. 

“Glad I’m not you” Gabe responded, following Jack’s previous motion of stepping closer. 

Jack could feel Gabriel’s warm breath on his lips, his entire body radiating with a heat that Jack craved. Gabriel’s arm was pinned against his chest where it grabbed his jacket, and the touch was electrifying, pushing him to do something bold.

He moved his blue-clad glove from it’s previously frozen position to Gabriel’s neck, his thumb caressing the edge of his chin and cheekbone, running through the thick hair of his beard. He traced the scar that ran down the left side of his face, refocusing his attention on the thin lines that peppered the Commander’s weathered visage.

Proof that both of them had changed, for better or for worse.

Newfound courage coursing through his veins, he leaned in, their lips only a breath apart.

“Jack” Gabriel breathed, his name barely an audible whisper. Jack watched as Gabriel’s eyelids fell half-lidded, the other man’s breathing picking up against his chest.

 

Was that, permission?

 

“Ga-”

He was cut off by a sharp rap at the door, the two splitting apart faster than two magnets of the same pole. Jack’s chest burned from where Gabriel had rested his hand, and his mind was spinning faster than he could keep track of, attempting to make sense of what just happened.

Eyeing Gabriel longingly one last time, Jack called for his visitor to enter, inwardly

groaning when he saw one of Petras’ lackeys at the door. 

The grunt saluted immediately, puffing up his chest and taking a deep breath.

“Petras sent me to come get you for the press address, he wanted to make sure you were on time.” 

Jack rolled his eyes before moving to follow, pausing when he remembered who stood beside him in his office.

“Want to come Commander Reyes?” Jack asked, jealous of Gabe’s ability to seem completely unaffected by, whatever just happened.

“With all due respect Commander Morrison, I think I'll pass,” He joked, pushing past Jack with a pat on the back. “Just the thought of bureaucracy makes me nauseous.”

“I envy you Commander” Jack called after his retreating form, facing to turn the grunt who eyed them with suspicion. Jack let a sneer cross his face, wiping any doubts the cadet may have had as he made his way to the briefing room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jack reached the dressing room he was immediately rushed into the makeup chair by his regular artist, Seren, who tutted his tongue when he spotted the heavy bags beneath his eyes. 

“Jackie, dear, are you sleeping at all?” He cried, pulling green color-correcting-foundation from the toolkit he kept at his waist. Jack let out a mirthless chuckle as Seren’s deft hands went to work covering up any “imperfections” for the camera.

“That’s a funny question Ser’” 

The artist let out a sad sigh as he rubbed a finely powdered blush onto his cheeks, tapping Jack’s nose with the fuzzy head of the brush as he leaned back to grab something else.

“You know, I got some good news today Jack” Seren began, applying a faint bronzer to his cheekbones. Careful not to move his face, Jack let out an inquisitive note that Seren knew to take as room to continue.

“ _ Someone _ left a little somethin’-somethin’ with me for you,” The man gushed, blowing blonde bangs out of his face. Leaning in close to Jack’s ear he giggled like a young schoolgirl with a secret, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I think it’s a secret admirer”

Jack allowed himself to grin with realization this time, the day’s pattern coming to repeat itself over and over again. Someone had given Seren a rose for him. 

“Lemme guess,” Jack sighed, tilting his head up when the artist tapped his chin twice. 

“It’s black and has the number 10 on it.”

Seren pulled back with a stare that spoke volumes louder than words. 

“I’ve got nine of them in my office,” Jack explained, gesturing in the vague shape of a vase, "They’re all either blue, red or black, and they all have a tag on the bottom.” 

“Oh,” The bubbly man responded, finishing off Jack’s eyeliner and mascara with a flourish. He reached behind Jack for a pouch on the back of the chair and fished out the rose in question, passing it between his perfectly manicured hands.

“I assume you know who it’s from then?” 

Jack went quiet, trying to ignore the sting in his chest the question brought. 

“Actually,” Jack sighed, fiddling with the hem of his coat, “I don’t, I just know who they’re, not, from.” 

Seren’s dark features turned to a knowing grin, and he leaned dramatically on the back of Jack’s chair, beginning to style his unruly blonde locks. 

“Who  _ isn’t  _ it Jack?” 

Jack muttered an unintelligible response, prompting Seren to aggressively pull the comb sharply through a knot in his hair. Jack let a hiss slip out through his teeth as he repeated himself.

“Gabriel.” 

Seren’s precise motions stopped dead as Jack let the truth bomb slip. Slipping his eyes shut, Jack listened to the man’s footsteps come to a halt in front of his chair. 

“You know this how?”

Refusing to open his eyes, Jack explained the event at the restaurant and then Gabriel’s curiosity in his office. Conveniently, he left out the part where he almost kissed the Blackwatch commander, still not fully understanding what had happened himself.

As soon as his story was finished, he cracked open one eye to see Seren with his trademark sarcastic smile on his face.

“Honey, honey, honey,” Jack felt his face being cupped by Seren’s hands, the man’s fingers cool to the touch. 

“Did you forget what he does for a living?”

Jack moves to say something, but the artist doesn’t give him room to continue, gesturing animatedly as he paced in front of the chair.

“He’s a  _ Black-Ops commander _ , not just a black ops  _ worker _ , but the  _ commander. _

Don’t you think he’s a bit trained in the department of putting up an act?”

Jack paused, rethinking the last two hours of his life. 

“He doesn’t lie to me Ser’” Jack countered weakly, not believing his own defense. With a knowing sigh, Seren stopped pacing, fixing Jack in his emerald stare.

“You already cried about it didn’t you.” 

Jack looked away, glad the thick cosmetic frosting would cover his flush.

“You’ve got to stop connecting dots without concrete proof Jack,” He explained, setting himself in Jack’s lap. To many, the move would be an absolute rude and unprecedented breach of space, but Jack craved the contact, starved by his title and seemingly hopeless love-life. 

“Don’t count him out yet ok?” 

The other man took Jack's silence as room to continue, draping a slender arm across his forehead and wrapping the other around Jack's neck. As the artist leaned back into a 1920’s feint pose, Jack rolled his eyes with a chuckle, fond of Seren’s flair for the dramatic.

“You’re just lucky you’ve got yourself, one distinguished gay, to help you through things,”

Pulling himself up slightly, Seren smiled, eying Jack’s makeup and outfit for imperfections. Of course, Seren’s work was flawless, but the pain in Jack’s eyes wasn’t something that could be covered up with foundation or mascara. 

_ “Gabriel better make this day count.”  _ The artist thought, realizing he let the silence between them had stretched to an almost uncomfortable amount of time.

Plastering a smile on his face, he patted Jack’s breastplate, rubbing a smudge off of the metal Overwatch logo.

“Jeez, I can’t even imagine the disaster you’d be without me.”

Jack let out a chuckle as he stood up, holding Seren aloft with one arm as he reached for his holopad on the table. 

“Tell you what, I’ll come back for the rose after and you can impart some gay wisdom on me.” 

“Deal” He grinned as Jack placed him back on the ground. Spinning on his heel as he walked backward towards the stage, Jack waved to his friend who pretended not to notice as he tidied his supplies.

Jack stepped past the curtains and into the spotlight, feeling just a bit lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to leave this one on a happier note.   
> Special thanks to Manico for beta-ing and Jayden, even though you won't see this, you're still a mol.  
> Also, comments and kudos are my lifeblood, thank you to all who have and will in the future!  
> See you in the next chapter! <3


End file.
